


Nimbus

by ElCadejos



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElCadejos/pseuds/ElCadejos
Summary: “A luminous cloud or a halo surrounding a supernatural being or a saint.”





	1. I

New recruits were pouring in every day, and even though it meant extra work, Cullen made sure to ask each and everyone their name and hometown. It was the least he could do as their Commander, considering they would be following his orders from now on.

He finished meeting the newest batch right after noon, instructing one of the senior soldiers to continue with the introduction.

“Commander, a word?” he heard Cassandra Pentaghast say as she emerged from the tavern in Skyhold.

Cullen let out a small sigh. Work never ended. “Of course. What can I do for you, Lady Seeker?”

She adjusted her breastplate before speaking. “Worry not, this is unrelated to the Inquisition… mostly.”

“Oh?”

“I wanted to ask how things were going between you and the Inquisitor.”

The Commander’s cheeks and ears immediately turned a shade of bright pink. An uninformed observer would have mistaken it as a reaction to cold, but Cassandra knew better than that. He cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze.

“Are you perhaps embarrassed about it?” she teased with a smirk.

“No! I mean… No, not at all. It’s just…”

Cassandra chuckled lightly. “I do not mean to put you through an awkward moment, Cullen. I am genuinely curious, considering all you both have been through until know.”

The Commander nodded with a smile. “Indeed. Apparently the Maker wants to squeeze even the smallest details into the End of the Days. Not that I am complaining. She makes me feel like I’m breathing fresh air for the first time in ages.”

“You deserve it. Though I will not claim to be aware of your complete personal history, there is no doubt that there are scars in your heart that need tending, and healing, and maybe a kiss or two,” Cassandra replied. She sincerely meant it, yet Cullen’s shade of pink turned even brighter.

He rubbed his neck. “It was odd, you know? I could tell her questions were more than mere curiosity but I didn’t really believed she would be interested. It was not until Haven was wiped out by the avalanche that… I realized _I_ was the one interested. The first time we played chess, though, she said ‘we should spend more time together´ and it just sort of hit me. I was not imagining it.”

She smiled. “You sound so young. I’m glad. I can promise you we all work together to guarantee her safety during our missions.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Cullen nodded. “If she stopped hunting dragons, though, I would sleep better.”

“She is a Reaver, Commander. The dragon blood needs to come from somewhere.”

They reached the door to his quarters without realizing it. The Seeker ruffled his hair before heading back to the Main Hall. Cullen rubbed his neck; he didn’t realize during the conversation, but Cassandra had barely poked about the matter, and he blurted out everything he could about his relationship with the Inquisitor in less than ten minutes.

Well, Maker curse it, it felt nice to talk about it for once. He shut the door behind him, trying to fix his hair in case he received any visitors later.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A luminous cloud or a halo surrounding a supernatural being or a saint.”

The ache is crushing his skull, but for the sake of the Inquisition, he must endure. It’s a blessing the War Room is somewhat dark, because even the candle light burns his eyes. He wipes cold sweat from his brow, staring hard into Lake Calenhad. It doesn’t look like a bunny today.

His next dose is not until dawn, and for the sake of the Inquisition, he will endure. He can already taste the blessed relief lyrium still brings him. Long days aching with withdrawal, and longer nights full of terrors. Sleep has become a stranger to him.

Legs weak, arms heavy, breath short, but for the Inquisition…

“Commander?”

Cullen jerks himself awake, blinking hard to appear focused. “Yes, Inquisitor?”

“Are you unwell?” Josephine asks, visibly concerned. “You look pale. Should I ask for some water?”

“No, no. I’m fine, really,” he answers awkwardly, very aware his knees are trembling. “It’s been a long week, that’s all…”

Leliana says nothing, but her sharp gaze cuts right through him. _She knows_. The Commander shifts his weight from one feet to the other. One of those goes terribly wrong and he almost slams his head against the table.

“Cullen!” the Inquisitor yells, catching him right in time and helping him to a nearby chair. She leans closer, gloveless hand on his forehead. “Is it the lyrium? You are so cold, you need to rest.”

He catches her hand in his and gives it a squeeze. “Yes, but it’s alright. Just a-” but whatever he was about to say is lost, as all voices seem miles away and everything goes black.

******

Cullen wakes up confused and stiff, uncertain of where he is or what time it is. The room is large, the windows tall, and the bed wide. A few dragon skulls peer inside from the balcony. Of course, the Inquisitor’s quarters. His armor has been removed, but all other clothing remains on his body. The headache has diminished though he still feels soggy and heavy.

He’s about to prop himself up when he notices a hand in his. Lady Trevelyan is curled up near him, though not really touching him, except for his left arm, which she is hugging close to her chest. The Commander smiles to himself, feeling much younger than he is.

He has never told her, but the subtle smell of embrium in her hair soothes him after a horrible nightmare. If she is awake, she will read a book, or at least pretend to, just to keep him company while he tries to go back to sleep. It shames him to know she will try to not touch him when it happens, because he becomes aggressive and less reasonable. A bruise on her wrist made them both realize so.

Varnani Trevelyan stirs in her sleep and one glowing green eye surveys him in the dark. “How do you feel, Cullen?”

“Much better, my lady. I’m sorry for this mess,” he says, squeezing her hand in his. “I really thought I could handle it by know.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Foolish man,” she whispers, kissing his cheek and resting her head on his chest. “You are to rest until fully recovered of this episode. Thus spoke Inquisitor Trevelyan.”

Cullen laughs wholeheartedly, hugging her as close as he can. “Thank you,” he whispers back. The Anchor might be in her left hand, but the halo is, without a doubt, in her heart.


End file.
